


whispers to me (that you are gone)

by facelessmasqueradess



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Five Stages of Grief, Grief, srsly though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1893357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facelessmasqueradess/pseuds/facelessmasqueradess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say acceptance comes in time.</p><p>(You know there'll never be enough.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	whispers to me (that you are gone)

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic surprise, surprise it's a Lydia Martin one.
> 
> Featuring Ally A, naturally.

_They say there are five stages of grief._

 

I.

 

Allison promises to come by and teach you some basic self defense maneuvers.

 

 

_There's a fight._

 

_A tangled mass of bodies struggling desperately; useless, futile attempts to hold back the converging sea of shadows as it presses ever closer._

 

 _Urgent clangs of metal on metal, the despondent clattering of arrows, falling to the ground one by one as each time they are deflected by their marks. Howls of pain, then a flash of victory and something that seems like hope before the blade pierces home and there is a wretched, penetrating scream that might be your own but you can’t be sure because you’re lurching back to consciousness in the darkness of your living room and_ it doesn’t really matter because she’ll be here soon and-

 

_It was just another half remembered nightmare._

 

(You ignore the miserable voice in the back of your mind that says she was supposed to be here hours ago and decide to wait just a little bit longer.

 

You don’t dare turn on the lights.)

 

 

II.

 

Stiles makes another in a series of stupid jokes and the blood surges hot through your veins, roars in your ears and drowns out everything else until you realize that you’re screaming, roaring with the rage that festers in your heart like a cancer, and for the life of you, you can’t remember why. _(It’s only Stiles after all.)_

 

He looks at you with dark, sorrowful eyes and something akin to pity and you think you might burst.

 

_Why doesn’t he fight back?_

 

 

III.

 

You’ll fix this.

 

 

You can fix this.

 

 

Like that miserable, wretched night of your birthday when you dragged a barely conscious Derek Hale to the ashen remains of his thrice cursed family home, possessed by a foreign strength and a sheer force of will you didn’t know you had and used his precious alpha blood to resurrect the burnt up demon of a corpse that had you on your knees for the better part of six months.

 

_Why should this be any different?_

 

 

IV.

 

There’s a memorial in school with her picture on it and you stumble, blindly into the girl’s room (at least you hope it’s the girl’s room), gasping for air as the sobs, unbidden, wrack your body until you can feel your soul ripping apart at the very seems and you almost want to laugh-

 

_(Your soul was forfeit a long time ago.)_

 

 

V.

 

Your mom sends you to therapy and the school assigns you grief counsellors (or maybe only one, you don’t really know) but they all use the same word: _accept, accept, accept_ and all you can think is that she was seventeen and your best friend and you were gonna go to prom and look at colleges and she was ripped from this world for reasons they couldn’t even begin to comprehend ( _yet not a single one good enough_ ) and _how is anyone supposed to fucking accept that?_

 

They say it comes in time.

 

_(You know there’ll never be enough.)_


End file.
